Page 41 of Let the Light Shine Through

I glance up to see Roz’s eyebrows raised.

“I need dessert.”

The eyebrows go even higher. “What? Now?”

“Yeah, now.” I gesture to the empty plates. “I need to balance out all this salt.” Always. I’ve always had this thing about balancing out the sweet and savory when I eat. I can’t end on a salty note, or a sweet one. There has to be an equal amount of both for my taste buds to be completely satisfied. It’s a habit. Or character flaw. Whatever. The two are usually interchangeable.

“It’s gotta be…what? After two o’clock already? Where are we going to find dessert now?”

“It is?” I guess we both lost track of time because I had no idea it was already the next day.

“Don’t worry about it.” I wave him off. “There’s probably something in the kitchen.”

Before I can move, Roz stands, saying, “Stay here. I’ll see what I can do.”

Now my eyebrows are the ones hitting the ceiling. I mean, okay. Dr. Roz is suddenly Chef Roz. I’m into it.

Hook-up. He’s a hook-up.

Roz reappears a few minutes later, wearing a shit-eating grin and holding a small bowl of something I can’t see.

Setting it in front of me, he says, “I brought two,” then brandishes two spoons from behind his back with magician-like flair. And the talents continue.

I scan the bowl. “This is whipped cream.”

“It was all I could find,” he explains, sitting across from me.

“You had the chance to strip naked and cover your dick in whipped cream before coming back out here and you didn’t take it?”

His face registers so many different reactions I almost feel bad. Almost.

Regret finally flickers, and I laugh. Yes, he did, in fact, miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one I would’ve enjoyed the hell out of.

I scoop some cream on my pointer finger, then hold it out for him, waiting. Our eyes on each other’s, his tongue sneaks out to take a small taste. I swear the lick goes straight to my pussy, and when Roz’s mouth closes over my finger, all the way to the base, devouring the cream completely, I have to clench my thighs together.

With a jerk of my chin, I invite him over so I can have a taste, too—he’s not the only one with an appetite—but sadly, he releases my finger to shake his head, telling me, “I only have four kisses left.”

“So use ’em.” I shrug. Like duh, dude, that’s what I’m getting at.

I lick up the finger he just sucked, giving him another nod, but again, he refuses. What the hell?

Instead, he eyes the bowl, saying, “I thought you said you wanted this.”

So we’re playing that game.

Propping my ass on the table, I swing my legs around, over to his side, keeping them spread wide.

“Maybe I want something else now.”

“You owe me four more kisses, anytime, anywhere.” He tilts his head to the side, glancing up at me with half-lidded eyes. “But I’m not cashing in on them right now.”

Damn. He’s trickier than I thought.

Looking down my nose at him, I say, “So you can’t fuck without kissing, is that it?”

The second the words are past my lips, Roz is out of his chair, standing in front of me. With one yank, my ass is at the edge of the table, then his hand wraps around the back of my neck, keeping me in place as he slams his mouth down on mine. And oh gawd, is it a good kiss. I will say, even though I liked the taste of Roz’s blood on my tongue, the sweet cream makes for a much tastier addition.

I have to tilt my head back to accommodate the height difference, but any pressure in my neck is immediately rubbed away by Roz’s hand, kneading it like he’s the one that grew up in a pizzeria.